


Strangeness and Charm

by Haro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (sort of), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergent, Drama, Falling In Love, M/M, Pre-sochi gpf, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haro/pseuds/Haro
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is dead.The news hits Yuuri like a punch to the gut, but despite the death of his idol and goal, he decides to continue with his plans to compete the upcoming season.But when Yuuri arrives at his first Grand Prix assignment of the year several months later, the Rostelecom Cup in Russia, which is being held at the same arena Victor died in, he discovers that there may be more to Victor's death than first appeared.Trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead, Victor appears to Yuuri and reveals to him that he believes that there's only one way he can be brought back, and that Yuuri is the only person capable of helping him.





	Strangeness and Charm

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of a very late mini-bing for the Live & Love YOI bing. The theme for this bing was 'magical realism', but in the end my story veered off theme and ended up more of a straight supernatural tale. Obligatory warning for temporary character death, but it all works out in the end.
> 
> My beta(s) for this were pandamilo and abarero, and my artist for it was sterndecorum! The art (which is beautiful) is a spoiler for part two, so I'll link it when the second part goes up. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The news hit Yuuri like a punch to the gut.

But Yuuri assumed that if he _were_ punched in the gut, he’d be feeling better by now, whereas it had been several hours since he’d found out, and if anything he felt worse.

Devastated, unable to breathe, Yuuri felt as if he were drowning, the grief rolling over him in waves and refusing to allow him to lift his head above the water.

Victor Nikiforov was dead.

He’d died in an accident while practicing for a summer ice show at an arena in Moscow. Details to the press were scant, but funeral arrangements were announced (closed casket, public, and in his hometown of St. Petersburg) within hours of it occurring. Yuuri thought, as vague statements from rinkmates, coaches, and family flitted through the press across the next few days, that everything, not just the announcement of the funeral, seemed rushed.

It felt as if everyone wanted to forget about what had happened as soon as possible. It’s not as if he didn’t understand. He wanted to forget too, but the death of Russia’s most famous athlete at just twenty-six years old, he thought, would have been treated with more thoughtful contemplation, long words, platitudes, and ceremony, than this. The public funeral ended up being huge, attended by thousands upon thousands of fans, but even it didn’t have the level of pomp Yuuri would have expected. Yuuri himself longed to go, but as it was scheduled for only two days after Victor’s death, he couldn’t make it.

And then, Victor Nikiforov vanished.

The Russian Skating Federation went on with their preparations for the season as if nothing had happened. Yakov Feltsman wouldn’t talk about him, and eventually the Russian press caught on and, after a couple of weeks of tribute articles, they stopped talking about him too.

Victor had become an echo, whispered of and grieved over among fellow skaters and fans, but kept silent of in the press. Foreign publications and commentators talked about him longer, but eventually they too stopped, as they weren’t getting any more material from Russia to report on.

For Yuuri, Victor could never become a ghost, or an echo, or anything but a flesh and blood man. He had been Yuuri’s goal, an inspiration, an idol, and a hero. His death meant, and Yuuri felt awful for even allowing this to cross his mind, that he would never have a chance to stand on a podium with him, never have a chance to be acknowledged by the man who helped shape so many of his hopes and dreams.

How selfish of him to think such a thing. Victor deserved better, even in death.

But… Yuuri thought, he really did believe that this season may have been the season he was finally good enough.

His programs were strong, his quad toe loop was more consistent than ever, and his salchow was improving as well. He’d been assigned to the NHK Trophy and the Rostelecom Cup. Victor had been scheduled to compete at Rostelecom, but now it would go on without him, and the competition took place in the very same Moscow arena that Victor had died in.

In the early days speculation had been that they’d move it to another location, but as with everything Victor related, that talk quickly stopped.

The Grand Prix Final was going to be in Sochi, in the same arena Yuuri had watched Victor win Olympic gold in less than two years before. God, it ached to think about.

_Maybe_ , he found himself thinking time and time again, _I’ll make this my last season. Retiring after five years on the senior level is perfectly respectable, isn’t it?_ _I already went to the Olympics once too._

He’d finished eighth in Sochi, and while Yuuri knew he could do better, it’s not as if that weren’t admirable.

Yuuri would dedicate this season to Victor Nikiforov, and then, he’d decide after that if the emptiness inside him was fulfilled, or if he needed to keep skating.

* * *

 

Yuuri had been to the Luzhniki Small Sports Arena once before, when he had been assigned to the Rostelecom Cup two years before in 2013. It was the first time, and last time he had shared a Grand Prix assignment with Victor. Victor had won the event, and Yuuri had watched starry eyed from the side of the rink. Yuuri himself had finished seventh and had left the event frustrated. He hadn’t even managed to skate in the same group as Victor.

Yuuri thought, if only that was what he was dealing with now. He wanted to skate on the same ice as Victor back then, had wanted to stand on the podium with him. Now he just wanted him to be alive.

The mood around the rink as the skaters piled in for their first practice was subdued, almost uncanny in its quiet tension. Even coaches spoke in a whisper to their skaters, and the most audible sounds were blades on the ice and the occasional music for program run throughs. Everyone knew this was where Victor Nikiforov had died, everyone knew that they skated over the same place where he’d met his end, however that had been. The media had stopped talking about it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t haunt every skater competing that season. Yuuri shared his practice session with Victor’s longtime rival Christophe Giacometti, and it was impossible to miss the nervous way the man behaved.

He’d known Victor for so long. Yuuri didn’t know if Chris and Victor had been friends per say, but at the very least, they’d had a relationship built from years upon years of competing at the same competitions. Chris had longed to escape his spot as Victor’s eternal bridesmaid for years, but Yuuri knew this was the last way he’d wanted that to happen.

Chris fell on a quad lutz attempt, and shaken, sat on the ice for almost a full minute before getting up and stepping over to the boards for a break.

Maybe it would help assuage some of the tension if they knew what had happened to Victor in the first place. An accident was so vague.

Yuuri had seen Yakov Feltsman exit the arena earlier with his athlete Georgi, and he had immediately shut down the media before they could ask any questions about _anything._

As far as his own skating, Yuuri wasn’t doing well. He felt shaken and strange, and he’d been practicing footwork and spins but hadn’t tried any jumps beyond a double axel. Celestino watched him with concern from the sidelines, but he said nothing.

It would be okay. He had three days of practice before the start of the short program. He’d get used to the… presence in the arena.

He shook his head. Presence? What a strange word for his brain to use. But it wasn’t inaccurate. It felt like Victor was there, a whisper and a ghost that no one dared mention aloud.

There was a moment where Yuuri thought he felt the presence grow stronger, but he shrugged it off. His mind was playing tricks on him. Of course they all felt something intangible of Victor. He was on everyone there’s minds, on the tip of their tongues.

Yuuri huffed and dared to launch into a quadruple toe loop to distract himself. He landed it easily, which more than surprised him. In fact, his landing had been so smooth that he heard Celestino break the silence of the rink with an enthusiastic round of clapping. Yuuri felt a small smile cross his lips.

That jump had felt so… _good_. It had felt natural and easy and as if the imaginary weight he seemed to carry when he was nervous had vanished, for just a moment.

He attempted a quadruple salchow, a jump he still only had a twenty-five percent success rate at. Easy, and he knew before landing that he’d been higher in the air than he ever had before. Celestino’s applause grew louder, and he let out an enthusiastic cheer. Yuuri’s cheeks burned in embarrassment as everyone turned to stare at him.

And ah, that was far too strange.

Everyone, it appeared, included a familiar silver haired man who was leaning against the side of the rink. Yuuri blinked, looked again, and he was gone.

Fifteen seconds ago, he’d been ecstatic over his jump landings, and now he was hallucinating Victor Nikiforov. He pressed the balls of his hands over his eyes and groaned. Talk about whiplash.

It wasn’t that odd, was it? Everyone was rattled, everyone was on edge. His mind playing tricks on him was just a natural conclusion of that.

He skated over to the edge of the rink to grab his water bottle. Celestino was talking to Josef, Chris’s coach, which left Yuuri by himself. Yuuri took several deep breaths and downed some of his water. He closed his eyes to focus, to free his mind of any distractions.

It took a moment to even register the feel of a hand resting atop his.

He started, his eyes snapping open and expecting to see Celestino or even Christophe.

Not Victor Nikiforov.

He swallowed, almost choking as some water went down the wrong pipe.

Victor’s silver hair was just as brilliant, his face just as beautiful, and his eyes just as bright as they had been in life. He looked at Yuuri with an unsure, cautious expression, as if he were waiting for him to freak out.

And look like an idiot because he was freaking out over something no one else could probably see? Not today.

Yuuri let out a shaky breath.

Victor wore his practice clothes; a navy shirt and black pants, and it was like he’d--- never left the ice.

_Why is he still here? I get it, brain, things are weird, but you got more than enough sleep last night and…_

“Yuuri Katsuki, you can see me?” Victor Nikiforov asked.

Yuuri merely nodded, a small enough gesture that no one else would notice he was interacting with air.

Victor’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he squeezed Yuuri’s hand.

Now that Yuuri thought about it, there was a strangeness to Victor’s touch. It was as if his mind registered the feel of it, but his body didn’t. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it was, perhaps the best way he could describe it was a sensation that was ‘half there’.

And Victor himself, once he looked longer, was the same.

“You’re a ghost,” Yuuri said.  “You’re sort of… not totally opaque?”

Victor shook his head. “It’s not quite like that.” He smiled again. “I’ve been waiting for you, Yuuri.”

“Me?”

“I didn’t know it was you until now, but…” He bit his lip and tapped his chin. “I think we should go talk elsewhere, don’t you?”

“You’re dead.”

Victor frowned and lifted his other hand off Yuuri’s. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Please, follow me.”

And Yuuri, despite his brain screaming to himself to get a grip and ignore what was happening, grabbed his skate guards and followed the specter of Victor Nikiforov.

* * *

 

Victor, it appeared, did have a degree of dexterity in the real world. He was able to open a door to a small meeting room, which he led Yuuri into before closing the door behind him. Yuuri, for his part, stayed silent. What the hell was he supposed to say anyway?

“I guess you might want to sit down for this.”

Yuuri nodded, pulling out a chair and doing so. Victor followed suit.

“Do you not have skate guards?” Yuuri asked, then flushed upon realizing that he’d asked that of all things.

Victor let out a light laugh and pulled his foot up, running a finger over the edge of one of his gold blades. “I don’t have anything but what was on me at the time I ah---” he frowned. “In any case, it doesn’t matter. My blades won’t ever grow dull.” Victor shook his head.

Yuuri felt himself shudder, and he clenched his fists in the fabric of his pants. “Y-you said you’re ‘a little more complicated’ than being dead?”

Victor nodded. “Would you like me to explain it from the—”

“Why can I see you?” Yuuri interrupted, his voice rising in pitch. “I don’t understand. We don’t even know each other.”

Scooting his chair a little closer to Yuuri, Victor leveled him an honest look. “Yuuri Katsuki from Japan. Your step sequences are the best in the skating world, even better than mine. Your spins are second to only Christophe Giacometti’s. But your jumps?”

“Are terrible, I know,” he said. “I don’t need Victor Nikiforov of all people telling me that.”

Victor shook his head in the negative, and Yuuri tried to ignore the way, for a moment, he thought he saw him flicker. “They’re not terrible at all. They’re beautiful,” he paused and let a wry smile cross his lips, “when you can land them.”

Yuuri huffed. “What’s the point if I can’t?”

“Why can’t you?”

Suddenly finding the floor very fascinating, Yuuri frowned. He should have felt more awkward, more nervous about opening up to Victor, but the fact that Victor was a ghost (or not a ghost?) was sort of overriding his anxiety at having a heart to heart with his idol. Even Yuuri could acknowledge that was the stranger part. “I get nervous,” he mumbled. “I lack confidence when I need it most. The first thing that goes is my jumps.”

Victor nodded.

“B-but why are we talking about that?” Yuuri almost shouted. “I don’t think the reasons behind my failings are really what we need to be discussing here.”

“Ah, of course.” Victor scratched his cheek and glanced to the side. “Yuuri, do you know about the veil between worlds?”

Yuuri scrunched up his nose. “Uh, no?”

Victor let out a brief laugh, although his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I’d assume not. I think I had heard the term before, but I didn’t know what it actually was.”

“What is it?”

“A place between life and death. The veil is what separates the world of the living, and the world of the dead.”

Yuuri nodded mutely.

“But I’m not on the side of life, or the side of death. I’m… caught in the middle.”

“Trapped in the veil?” Yuuri whispered.

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed. “That’s exactly it. It’s not… a literal veil. When I’m not here, I don’t have a physical form. I’m just… consciousness.” He shuddered. “But I’m always here. I couldn’t stand that feeling, so I’ve not left this rink since August.”

Yuuri felt something heavy in his stomach. “A-are you trying to move on?” he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

The room went silent for a moment, and Yuuri could have sworn he saw him flicker again. “I-if that’s what has to happen… then yes.” He pushed a piece of hair behind his ears, and his blue eyes were filled with an undeniable combination of sorrow and fear. “But… if I was meant to die, why wouldn’t I have just passed on in the first place?”

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. “What happened that day?”

“I was skating,” Victor began. “I had been working on a program. It was one that I was never going to compete with because even I knew it was completely…” he raised his hands to gesture, “completely insane.”

“Insane?”

“Far beyond my abilities.”

Yuuri wondered exactly how hard a program this was if it was beyond Victor Nikiforov’s abilities, but he said nothing and allowed him to continue.

“I didn’t know why I was doing it at the time,” he said. “I was angry. I’d just felt this… spike of fury, and I’d put on a piece of music and decided to skate to it, and as I did, I kept making the program more and more difficult. If no one was going to beat me, I’d beat myself.”

“You wanted to lose?”

Victor shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. Like I said, I didn’t understand at the time, but I’ve had a lot of time to think since then.” He leaned back in his chair. “Yuuri, I dedicated my entire life to skating. I know, every competitive skater does that. But for me…” he sighed, “I shut everything else out. I didn’t date, I didn’t go to college, I didn’t spend time with friends. I went to the rink, I competed, and I went home every night by myself. Makkachin was my only real company.”

Yuuri squirmed in his seat, just a bit. Victor Nikiforov was pouring his heart out to him, and all he could do was listen. “I’m sorry,” he managed.

“You’re my fan, aren’t you?” Victor asked. Yuuri’s answering blush was enough of an answer. “I thought as much. I can see it in the way you skate.”

“O-oh…”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m flattered by it,” Victor said. “But I can see why… hearing these things about someone you admire might be upsetting. I’m sorry for this.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri replied, with a firm, resolute nod.

“I’m glad.” Victor clasped his hands together. “Anyway, when you don’t have anything else in your life, what do you think happens when skating starts to lose its luster? I love skating. I love it more than anything else. But… the pressure, the role I had to play, it was all starting to feel like a burden.”

“There was no joy in it, because it was all you had,” Yuuri said.

Victor nodded. “Yes. And it made me angry, and that August afternoon… I skated that anger.” He went silent for several moments, and Yuuri registered the ticking of a clock in the room. “And it almost killed me.”

“Almost.”

“It was the last jump of the program. As I said, I was planning this as I went, but I knew the music was about to end. I was so tired, Yuuri, I was straining past the point I’d ever been in a program, even when I was fresh to the senior scene and still getting used to skating longer programs…”

“W-what did you do?”

“What had I already done, you mean. I’d landed six quadruple jumps, I’d done a step sequence far too fast for even my own mind to keep up with, I’d done two catch foot spin positions, which I haven’t been flexible enough to do since I was twenty…” He let out a dry laugh. “And then, when I probably didn’t even have it in me to complete a simple double, I tried to turn my last jump, a triple axel, into a quad.”

Yuuri’s eyes were blown wide, and his mouth dropped open. “Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Then how---”

“Make no mistake of it, Yuuri, I was going to fall. I could feel it in the air; my body twisting wildly on its axis, my legs flying open as if I was ten years old again… but…” He leveled Yuuri a direct stare. “I didn’t land at all. Before I could hit the ice, I vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“And when I woke up, this is how I was.”

* * *

 

It made perfect sense now, Yuuri knew, why no one was talking about Victor’s death. There hadn’t even been a body. Yakov had not been there, Victor having snuck in for his own private practice time (the benefits of it being an ice show he was running, Victor explained), but security footage had made it clear later that day what had happened.

Victor had proceeded to discuss his position in more detail with Yuuri after that. Yuuri was the first person who’d been able to see him. He’d tried to get in contact with Yakov, Georgi, Chris, Mila, and everyone else he knew that had visited the rink, but to no success.

But when Yuuri had shown up, he’d known. Victor had described it as a tug, as if Yuuri’s presence pulled him forward.

“Did you have anything to do with my quads today? They felt… different.”

Victor had nodded. “I jumped with you.”

“With me?”

“It’s ahh- hard to describe. I’ll show you when we’re back on the rink.”

“Okay.”

“But once I’d done that, it was like I felt the connection I had to you had cemented.”

“And then I could see you?”

“And then you could see me.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We’re back to the question though. Why me?”

Victor scooted the chair closer, and as if asking permission, tapped Yuuri on the hand. Yuuri flinched for a moment, but relaxed. Victor proceeded to place both his hands atop Yuuri’s. “Sorry. You’re the first person I’ve been able to touch in months,” he said, “it makes me feel a little more… grounded.”

Yuuri ignored the way his cheeks were pinking and nodded. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, and this time it looked genuine. “Whenever I’m by myself, whenever no one is here, I spend hours practicing that program. At first it was just to take my mind of my situation. After all, it took so much concentration that I could hardly think of anything else while I skated it.”

“Did you ever manage to finish it?”

“Never,” Victor said. “In fact, I never improve. It’s the same every time. I get to that final jump and I… vanish.”

“You vanish again?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll find myself lying down with my back on the ice in the exact spot I would have fallen, just a short time later, as if nothing had happened.”

“Why do you keep skating it then?”

“Because when I do,” Victor paused and held up a finger, “I feel that as the program goes on, my connection to this world grows stronger.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew huge. “What do you mean?”

“I believe that if I finish it, I’ll be pulled back entirely from the veil.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open and his hands clenched under Victor’s touch (warm, but strangely not there).

“Earlier you said you jumped ‘with me’.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t know I could do that until now, but it felt to me, as if we were one body.”

“Like possession?”

“Not entirely. You were of your own mind, and I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t already have the ability to do.”

Yuuri pulled his hands away from Victor and rubbed his fingers over his wrist. “You think I can finish the program then? Victor, you’ve got it all wrong. That can’t be why you saw me.”

“It’s the only explanation.”

“No!” Yuuri shouted. “That’s not possible. I… can’t even do a clean skate with two quads. My quadruple salchow has a twenty-five percent success rate. I’d probably kill you for real, Victor.”

“Yuuri…” Victor hesitantly reached up and tapped Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri pulled his fingers off his wrist, ignoring the red welts that had appeared on it.

“I’ve watched you in practice,” he said. “You might not have those other jumps yet, but your stamina is unmatched.”

“That’s not enough…”

“I would be with you the entire time. It would be just like those jumps earlier. If you’re scared it’s f—”

“I’m not scared of doing the program!” Yuuri interrupted, and his voice was like steel. Victor sat up straight, taken aback. “I’m not scared for myself. I’ll be fine. At most I’ll fall like I always do.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m scared for you. There are so many stronger skaters that you could have appeared to—”

“I didn’t choose…”

“I know!”  Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his hands to his cheeks. “I know that, but whoever makes these decisions, fate or… god… or I don’t know who, made the wrong one. I want to help you, but I’m not the right person. Maybe I can explain the situation to Christophe, and he can do it.”

“It won’t work!” Victor raised his voice, and Yuuri started, because it was the first time the man had done so.  “If you don’t want to do this, I won’t hold it against you,” he spoke slowly, calming down as he did so. “I could never force you to do it. But… I have to believe, if you’re the one who can see me, you must be the only one who can do it. At worst, it doesn’t work and nothing changes for me.”

He lifted his eyes to meet Yuuri’s, and they were filled with something he could only describe as _hope._ “Please, let me believe in you, Yuuri.”

And maybe Victor only believed in him because of the fact he could see him, but the fact was, Victor believed in him. And really, isn’t that what Yuuri had always wanted? Victor acknowledging his skill, seeing him as a worthy skater. So worthy in fact, that he was trusting him with his program, the one that even he couldn’t complete. Victor hadn’t explained exactly what jumps were in the program, but Yuuri assumed, knowing Victor’s own skills, that there were at least three he’d never landed successfully before. This was insane…

“A quad axel?” Yuuri let out a derisive laugh.

“You have the best triple axel in the world,” Victor countered.

“Do you really mean that?”

“I mean everything I’ve said, Yuuri Katsuki.” And he smiled, and it was real and bright and god, Victor was so beautiful and this was doing nothing for his long-held crush on the man.

“I’ll do it then,” he said. “I’ll skate this program with you, and we’ll finish it together.”

He barely had a warning before Victor’s arms were around him, in a warm embrace that made Yuuri’s stomach all bubbly and his cheeks all red. He wondered what a hug from Victor would feel like from a living, whole version of the man.

_I’ll find out. I’ll definitely find out…_

* * *

 

Yuuri was certain, after having just had a confrontation with an angry Yakov Feltsman, that he could now handle being assertive with just about anyone. Going through Yakov was the only way Yuuri could get into the arena to practice by himself. Yakov had enough power and influence with the Russian fed to be allowed to use the rink any time, and he couldn’t exactly learn Victor’s program during group sessions.

Not to mention, he’d need far more time than he’d been allotted for practice to even think about doing what he was doing.

Yuuri had written down in his phone what Victor told him to tell Yakov; that he knew what had happened to Victor that night in August, and most importantly, information that only Victor could know to prove to him that he’d talked with the man. Yuuri had stood staunch despite Yakov’s brashness, and the old coach had been forced to relent eventually. It was difficult to deny the truth of Yuuri’s statements with the evidence he’d been given.

It was evening before Yuuri could go back to the arena to meet Victor. The last practice was over at six p.m., and he’d told Celestino he was going out for the night and was at the rink by seven.

Victor stood at the center of the rink, idly tracing figures, and Yuuri noticed almost immediately that his blades didn’t leave marks on the ice. He shuddered to himself.

“Victor?” he spoke as he unloaded his bag onto a bleacher.

“Yuuri!” Victor smiled and skated over to the edge of the rink. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am…”

“How was Yakov?” Victor asked.

“Ugh.” Yuuri wrinkled his nose.

Victor laughed. “I expected as much. I’m sorry you had to go through him.”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

As Yuuri reached down into his bag to grab his skates, he saw Victor sit down on the bench next to him out of his peripheral vision. 

“Thank you again, for doing this,” Victor said. 

Yuuri started, pausing mid-pulling on his boot and turning toward Victor. “It’s okay. It’s no problem.”

Victor leaned back on his hands and sighed. “You don’t need to act like that. This is something really huge you’re doing, and you don’t even get anything out of it.”

Yuuri pushed his foot in his boot the rest of his way and grabbed Victor’s shoulder, turning the other man to face him. “Don’t say that. If everything goes well, I get you, and that’s more than enough.”

Victor’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink. “Ah—”

“I mean get you back, the world gets you back!” Yuuri clarified. “I didn’t mean ah---” he coughed, “I’m sure everyone else can’t wait to see you on the ice again too, after all.”

“Oh,” Victor replied, and his expression had turned rueful for some reason. “Yes, of course…. That’s true.”

Suddenly feeling nervous, Yuuri took his hand off Victor’s shoulders and continued pulling his skates on. 

“I’ll run through the program for you. Are you ready, Yuuri?”

“Yes.”

Victor stood up and skated to the center of the ice, and Yuuri watched. 

There was no music as Victor began to skate, but Yuuri thought, Victor moved as if he were his own instrument. He didn’t need to hear what was being skated  to understand the emotions behind it; anger, frustration, sorrow, passion, and frenzy. Yuuri felt his breath catch as Victor moved into the step sequence, and he was right, it was almost too fast to follow. His quads were as perfect as they’d ever been, but to Yuuri, they were less graceful than usual and more as if he were attacking them. Whereas Yuuri often thought that Victor looked like he was floating when he skated, his skating during this program was harsh and heavy. If Victor’s skates had been capable of making marks on the ice, he imagined his blades cutting deeper grooves than they’d ever done before. 

And then, right near where the end of the program would be, Victor did a short transition that Yuuri knew would probably precede a jump, in this case what would be the quad axel, and he stopped.

Yuuri gripped the side of the rink so tight his knuckles started to turn white. He exhaled shakily and his eyes were wide. How was he supposed to skate that? Even ignoring that the jumps were far beyond his level, the footwork, spins, and transitions alone made his body ache to even think of doing a program full of. He shut his eyes and shook his head. No, he could do this. Victor had said Yuuri’s skating skills were even better than his own, he’d said his spins were second only to Chris’s. If Victor honestly thought that, which he’d assured Yuuri that he did, then--- if Victor could skate this, Yuuri could too.

Those jumps though…

Victor skated over to the side of the rink.

“How are you not winded?” Yuuri asked.

“I don’t really get winded like this.” He frowned. “Or tired at all, actually.”

Yuuri glanced down at his feet. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess that makes sense but…”

“Let’s not talk about that right now.” Victor waved dismissively. “So, ah, the program?”

“It seems impossible.”

“It’s certainly not something I’d recommend making your new free skate, that’s for certain,” Victor replied, and Yuuri let out a short laugh. Victor’s lips quirked up in a small smile at that.

“I would think not,” he said. “If you really believe I have the ability though, I think I can do it. It’s just… the jumps.”

Victor tapped Yuuri’s arm and coaxed him onto the ice. “Let me show you what I was talking about with your jumps earlier.”

“You mean you jumping with me?” Yuuri asked.

“Right,” Victor said. “It’s the only aspect of skating you’re weaker than me on, so for everything else, I might be more of a hindrance than a help, but… I can give you a little assistance with your jumps at least.”

Yuuri skated to the center of the rink, Victor by his side. “Start with a quad salchow, Yuuri?”

“Okay. Let me warm up for a minute first.”

“Of course.”

Yuuri took his time skating around the rink, performing a few elements to loosen his muscles and get the feel of the ice, before returning to Victor’s side.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.” Yuuri nodded. “So, I just… jump?”

“Just like normal, yes.”  

Yuuri took a deep breath and launched into a series of basic crossovers, and from the beginning he could feel Victor skating alongside him. Maybe he could even see him, a flicker in his peripheral vision, or maybe not. Yuuri wasn’t quite sure. But even though the only blades cutting through the ice were his own, Victor’s presence was strong and true.

Ah, so this is what he’d felt at practice that afternoon. He just hadn’t known it yet…

Yuuri launched into his salchow, and Victor jumped with him. It felt as if he was being buoyed up, just the slightest bit, like a careful hand balancing him, but not to the point he wasn’t doing most of the work on his own.

Maybe this was what it would feel like to jump without the anxiety that soaked into his bones, weighing him down whenever he leapt into the air. Maybe someday, he could jump like this without Victor’s help.

Lighter, freer, easier.

He landed gracefully on his back outside edge, his free leg perfectly in position, and he smiled.

“Perfect, Yuuri.” Victor’s hand on his shoulder pulled him out of thought. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“Thanks.” Yuuri’s smile grew wider. “It felt… really good.”

Victor reached up and put his other hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m so glad.” Yuuri leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, his heart warm despite the chill of the rink. 

 

* * *

After group practice the next day, Yuuri bade Celestino farewell and told him he would be back to the hotel room later. In all actuality, he and Victor had decided to use one of available rooms in the arena to practice choreography off-ice. They wouldn’t have access to the ice for four more hours, because other skaters had practice sessions, but this much they could do. Yuuri was tired. He’d stayed at the rink until two am practicing with Victor, and his legs hurt and he was still not quite over his jet lag, and he had days more of this. It was fine though. He could stand being exhausted. Victor had it so much worse…

Yuuri positioned one of his foam rollers under his legs and began a quadricep strengthening exercise as he listened to Victor finish explaining some of the nuances of the choreography. He’d given the other man a notepad and pencil to write it down so Yuuri could study it later. At first, he’d offered Victor his phone, but they realized quickly that the touch screen didn’t register Victor’s presence.

“I should have expected that,” Victor said.

“Hmm?” Yuuri stretched his leg.

“The touch screen not working.”

“Oh.”

Victor sighed and tapped his pencil to the notepad. “Being around you, actually being able to speak to you and interact with you and touch you…” he let out a harsh laugh, “I guess I forgot for a minute the situation I’m in.”

Yuuri glanced to the side. “I’m glad.”

“Hmm?”

“T-that I was able to help you forget,” Yuuri explained. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.” He idly picked at the foam roller and bit his lip. “You must have been so scared…”

“Yuuri…”

Victor stood up from his chair and crossed the room, sitting down next to him.

“Sorry for assuming. I just… thought if I were in this situation, I would be terrified.”

Yuuri felt Victor’s hand on his cheek, and his brown eyes grew large. “Victor?”

“Of course I’m scared,” he said. “I’ve never been more frightened in my entire life.”

“Oh.”

Victor smiled, and it was warm but sad. “I’m really happy you’re here though, Yuuri.”

“Thank you...”

He pulled his hand away from Yuuri’s face and went back to his notepad. Yuuri continued his exercises, switching to a smaller roller for his arms, before finally speaking up again. “Something else has been on my mind,” he said.

Victor raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

“Last night, I seemed to upset you at one point and I… couldn’t stop thinking about it after I got back to the hotel,” Yuuri explained.

“What do you mean?”

Yuuri put his hand atop Victor’s, halting his writing, and looked straight into his eyes. “When I said the world will get you back, that everyone can’t wait to see you on the ice again, that wasn’t fair.”

Victor shrugged, his expression resigned. “You weren’t wrong.”

Yuuri shook his head vehemently, his grip on Victor’s hand tightening. “That doesn’t matter though. You’re more than your skating. You’ve told me how much it was hurting you, and it was thoughtless of me to---”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, it’s not that big a deal.”

“It is.” Yuuri loosened Victor’s fingers and took the pencil out of them, setting it aside. He clasped his hand again. “I want to bring you back because you’re Victor Nikiforov, and you’re a good person who has been through enough already. If you never wanted to skate again, I’d still want that.”

Victor’s fingers went slack in Yuuri’s grasp. His mouth dropped open in shock, and if Yuuri didn’t know any better, he could have sworn his blue eyes were watery.

“Yuuri…” Victor’s voice was breathless, almost a whisper. “You’re an incredible person, do you know that?”

Yuuri let out a nervous laugh. “If you say so.”

Victor pulled his hand away and deftly, lifted Yuuri’s chin beneath his fingers.

_He’s just touch-starved, right? That’s why he’s touching you so much. He hasn’t been able to touch anyone in months…_

Yuuri ignored the bright red of his cheeks, but he found, he had much more trouble ignoring the fact that Victor’s were also dusted a dark pink.

“I absolutely do.”

* * *

Yuuri came back to the rink again that evening after eating, telling Celestino once more that he was going out for the evening.

The rest of the afternoon, stuck in that small meeting room with Victor, had… not been what Yuuri had been expecting.

There was a closeness developing between them, to the point that even Yuuri couldn’t deny. Victor touched him so often, and Yuuri did the same in return. Maybe if it weren’t for the words that accompanied Victor’s statements, Yuuri could believe he was just a flirty person, or that he really was just that touch starved.

But Victor was genuine in everything he’d said to him, and Yuuri had a feeling that he wasn’t like this with most other people. For whatever reason, Victor really liked Yuuri. He was legitimately impressed by him and legitimately liked spending time with him.

When Yuuri had opened up to him about his own problems and anxieties, Victor had done the same in return.

Victor’s situation had allowed him to lay himself bare; in all his fear and uncertainty, in all his distress and trepidation, and Yuuri wasn’t foolish, he knew he was seeing a side of Victor that perhaps no one else had.

The Victor Nikiforov Yuuri had known before was strong and unyielding, but the Victor he knew now, was human. He’d laughed at bad jokes Yuuri had told and shared his own. He’d gotten so overwhelmingly excited over pics of Vicchan, that Yuuri thought the poor man might just burst. The mood had turned somber after that; Victor missed his own dog, and Yuuri assured him that according to the press, a cousin of his, Svetlana Nikiforov, was caring for her. He’d regaled Victor with tales of his time in Detroit, and Victor listened with rapt attention, having never been able to attend college himself.

He smiled often, and whenever he did so, Yuuri felt the most comforting warmth pool in his chest, like a hearth in winter, like an embrace.

Yuuri had always thought Victor was special, but he was discovering that he was in a way that Yuuri had never anticipated.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt Victor’s hands on his shoulders. “You’ve really got the choreo sequence down perfectly, Yuuri,” he said.

“Well that’s probably the easiest part of the program for me,” Yuuri responded. “Even the spins are hard. You really didn’t leave anything unaccounted for, did you?”

He glanced over his shoulder at Victor, whose expression was now troubled. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

Yuuri shrugged, turning around to face him and smiling. “Please don’t apologize again. You did nothing wrong.”

Victor opened his mouth to argue, but then nodded. “Okay. Do you want to practice the quad lutz again?”

The quad lutz had come surprisingly easy to him. He knew that a part of it was Victor’s influence, the way his presence steadied his body and calmed his nerves and his mind, but he had still expected more difficulty with it.

It helped that Victor had also proven himself an excellent instructor. When Yuuri had told him this, Victor had looked shocked for a moment before beaming, wide and beautiful.

“It’s nice to know I’m good at things that aren’t skating,” he’d said, and Yuuri’s heart had hurt.

“Let’s move on to the flip,” Yuuri said. “I can practice the lutz during normal group sessions, now that I have the foundations of it.”

“Right,” Victor agreed. “And I can still help you with it. We just can’t really communicate much.”

“Celestino is gonna flip when he sees me do a quad lutz,” Yuuri laughed.

“If he has any idea how good you really are, he won’t be that surprised,” Victor said.

“R-right…I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” Victor lazily skated a circle around him. “Do you like your coach, Yuuri?”

Yuuri bit his bottom lip and glanced down to the ice. “Celestino is a really good coach.”

Victor skated back toward Yuuri and stood in front of him. “I know he is. He’s trained many champions. But… that’s not what I asked.”

“I do like him. He’s nice and he really does care about his students, and he knows his stuff,” Yuuri explained. His voice had decreased in volume, and Victor noticed, gesturing him to continue. “But I think maybe I’m just impossible to coach. I’m aware that I haven’t reached my potential.” He let out a short laugh. “Did you know that when I was about to graduate to seniors, they were hailing me as someone who could really challenge you? I was Japan’s great hope.” He sighed. “When the JSF sent me to Detroit, they wanted me to come back a champion.”

“Yuuri you are---”

Yuuri shook his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not. I know I should be grateful for what I’ve accomplished, but I can do so much better and…”

Victor placed his hand firmly on Yuuri’s shoulder. His expression was grave. “Yuuri. You do know I didn’t win my first world title until I was about your age, right?”

“You were already a five time European champion and a four time world medalist, Victor. You’d won two Olympic medals by then. It’s hardly comparable.”

Sighing, Victor put his other hand on Yuuri’s cheek and leaned closer. “I think you have what it takes to be the best, Yuuri.”

“I know! But---”

“No buts,” Victor interrupted. “Have you considered finding a new coach?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m not easy to deal with. I get anxious and screw up, and there’s nothing any coach can do about it. Maybe Celestino could push me further, teach me harder technical elements, but why would he do that when I can’t land the jumps I do have in competition in the first place?”

“I think pushing you is exactly what needs to be done,” Victor said. Yuuri raised his head. “Maybe you’ll think this is a crazy idea, and I completely understand if you do, but—if this all works out, perhaps I could help coach you.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open. “I couldn’t ask that of you!”

“I’m offering.”

“But---”

“Watching you skate the last two days has been wonderful,” Victor explained. “You’re the most beautiful skater I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.”

“Victor…” Yuuri turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his chin against his shoulder. “You say these things to me, and I know you mean them…”

“Yes, of course.”

“But what about you?” Yuuri asked. “Don’t you want to return to skating?”

Victor let go of Yuuri and idly did a few three-turns. “All I’ve been doing the past four months is skating,” he said, and there was something sharp, almost angry in his voice. “Maybe someday I’ll want to skate again, but—” he let out a harsh laugh, “right now? It’s not precisely high on my list of priorities.”

And Yuuri’s heart ached, a dull thrumming that spread all the way down to the pit of his stomach. He wanted to cry.

The idea that what had happened to Victor had made skating not something he could even enjoy any longer, made him want to scream. How dare it. Victor was Yuuri’s hero, and he deserved to love skating as much as he did.

“I thought about retiring after this season,” Yuuri said.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Because of what happened to you. It shook me, and it made it hard for me to really find the same joy in skating I had before. It was always on my mind.”

“Yuuri. I’m sorry…”

“I told you not to apologize!” Yuuri exclaimed. “I-I’m not going to. You’re right. I have it in me to be so much better than I am.” He placed his hands on Victor’s forearms and squeezed gently. “I don’t know if anyone else still believes that I have the skills to be the champion you see in me, but you do, and that can be enough.”

Victor smiled, wide and excited, and it lit a fire beneath Yuuri.

“Be my coach, Victor, and in exchange, I’ll make you love skating again!”

Yuuri held out his hand for Victor to shake, but instead of taking the proffered hand, Victor leaned down and pressed a brief, tender kiss to the top it. In the quiet of the rink, Yuuri could only hear his loud, loud heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

“It’s a deal.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> it all comes down to 'be my coach!' in every universe, I swear. The second half will be up soon, as well as the accompanying fanart.


End file.
